


the glow that keeps you moving

by zauqo



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Bartender!Mark, Harvard Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 00:57:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18981904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauqo/pseuds/zauqo
Summary: Mark's a struggling bartender and Eduardo needs a drink. Eventually, of course, they fall in love.





	the glow that keeps you moving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [almostmagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostmagic/gifts).



> Written for Allie. <3
> 
> Endless thanks to @[monarchs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monarchs) for all the encouragement!

Eduardo breaks up with Christy on a warm June morning.

He does it at a restaurant, over pancakes, so she won't make a scene. Except she makes a scene anyway, a very big scene, involving fire and screaming and storming out of the restaurant, and by the time Eduardo has paid and apologized and been told he's not welcome to return, he could really use a drink.

***

The bar he finds is empty, which makes sense, given that it's 11am on a Monday. It's also dimly-lit and paneled in dark wood and kind of feels like the drawing room of an 18th-century mansion or something. There's classical music playing. It is not, altogether, very welcoming.

"Hi," says Eduardo to the curly-haired guy behind the bar, who has a laptop open in front of him. The guy doesn't acknowledge him, just keeps typing away at the computer. _Mark Z._ says his name tag.

Eduardo clears his throat. "Uh. Can I have a bourbon Manhattan?" he asks.

The guy— Mark— looks up, fingers still on the keyboard, and stares at Eduardo for a second like he resents him for the interruption.

"Sorry, is this a bad time?" Eduardo asks, somewhere between curious and annoyed.

Mark blinks. "No," he says. "ID?"

"Right," says Eduardo. He pulls out his driver's license and hands it over.

Mark takes it, squints down at it. "Eduardo Saverin," he reads.

"That's, uh, my name. Yeah," says Eduardo. Mark's eyes continue to scan the card, and Eduardo suddenly feels acutely aware of how unflattering his ID photo is. "I'm 21," he says, frowning.

Mark nods at last, and slides the card back to Eduardo. "I know," he says, and starts typing again.

Eduardo hesitates. "Could I have a—"

"Bourbon Manhattan, yeah." Mark glances up. "I'm working on something right now, hold on."

"So it _is_ a bad time."

"What?"

"Nothing," Eduardo says. "I was just... I don't know. Teasing."

"Teasing?"

"Yeah, because..." Eduardo trails off, realizing that _you're supposed to be serving me instead of going on your computer_ sounds ridiculously entitled, even if it's technically the truth. He shakes his head. "Never mind," he mumbles. "Take your time."

Mark stares at him for a moment. Then he turns back to the laptop and continues to type.

Eduardo sits down at the bar and waits.

"What are you working on?" he asks at last, when Mark shows no sign of finishing anytime soon.

"Coding," says Mark.

"What are you coding?"

"You know HarvardConnection?"

"Yeah," says Eduardo. "I think everyone does."

Mark snorts. "The Winklevii wish," he says. "Anyway, I'm fixing some bugs."

"Wait," says Eduardo. "For HarvardConnection?"

"Yes."

"Do you work for the Winklevoss twins or something?"

Mark shoots him a glare, his jaw set and his eyes hard. Then he sighs and continues typing. "You could say that," he mutters.

"That's... that's cool," says Eduardo, unsure what to make of Mark's response. "I mean, HarvardConnection is like... everyone's using it. It must be cool to work on it."

"It's not," says Mark.

"It's not?"

"No." Mark closes the laptop and pushes it aside, then reaches behind the bar and pulls out a glass. He shakes in the bitters from a bottle. "I coded it from scratch, you know," he says. "They'd had programmers before me but their work was shit."

"By yourself?"

Mark measures out what Eduardo assumes is the vermouth and pours it into the glass. "Yes," he says. "Of course."

"I figured they had, like, a whole programming team," says Eduardo.

Mark doesn't respond, just adds the bourbon and the ice and starts to stir. His hands move haltingly, without any panache, nothing like the way they'd danced across the keyboard.

"Do you go to Harvard?" asks Eduardo.

"I used to." Mark pulls out a cocktail glass and pours the mixture into it through a strainer. "Here," he says, pushing the drink toward Eduardo unceremoniously.

"Thanks," says Eduardo. "I'm gonna be a senior next year."

Mark nods disinterestedly.

"When did you graduate?" Eduardo prompts.

"I didn't," says Mark. There's a pause, and then he sighs. "Do you remember Facemash?" he asks.

Eduardo takes a drink. It's not bad. "That thing with girls' pictures, right?" he says. "I slept through it, but I heard about it later." Which is somewhat of an understatement; it was all anyone had talked about on campus for a week or so last fall.

"I made it," says Mark. "The Ad Board didn't like it. They expelled me for it."

Eduardo frowns. " _You_ made Facemash?" If he thinks back, he can vaguely remember skimming a _Crimson_ article about the site, and a sophomore being expelled. He hadn't paid much attention at the time.

"Yes," says Mark. "It was stupid." He opens his laptop back up and starts typing again.

"I heard it involved, like, hacking, right?" says Eduardo.

"It did," says Mark, fingers flying over the keyboard.

"Did you think you wouldn't get in trouble for that?"

"I don't know what I thought," snaps Mark, with a few particularly forceful keystrokes. "I was drunk and stupid." He looks up at Eduardo. "And I learned my lesson, okay?"

Eduardo glances away, takes another sip of his Manhattan. "Sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to... That must have been rough, getting expelled. Seems like overkill."

"Probably was," shrugs Mark. "What's done is done though." He turns away from his laptop and leans forward a little on the bar. "Anyway, I'm curious, who are you trying to impress?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you're a college kid wearing a three piece suit and drinking a Manhattan at a bar where the cheapest drink costs twenty bucks," Mark says. "Either you're genuinely a disgustingly rich douchebag type, or you're trying way too hard to seem sophisticated for some reason."

"I'm—" Eduardo finds himself at a momentary loss for words. "I'm not a douchebag," he protests at last, uncertainly.

Mark's lips quirk upward. "If you say so."

"I'm not! I just. I took my girlfriend out for breakfast so I guess... I wanted to dress up?" Eduardo shrugs self-consciously. 

"I see. And how was breakfast?"

"Bad," admits Eduardo. "I broke up with her and she freaked out."

"Is that why you're drinking at 11am? Because you're sad about breaking up?"

"I'm definitely not sad," says Eduardo, shaking his head. "I think I'm— celebrating."

Mark lifts his eyebrows.

"I was kind of... frightened of her," Eduardo explains, taking a sip of his drink. "She tried to set me on fire just now at breakfast."

"Sounds like a real catch."

Eduardo snorts. "I met her on HarvardConnection, actually," he says. "Right after it launched."

"Figures," says Mark, with undisguised disgust, and Eduardo finds himself frowning.

"Is it HarvardConnection that you hate so much, or the Winklevosses?" he asks.

"Both," says Mark. He grabs a dishrag from somewhere and starts wiping off the counter. "Ardently. Though I suppose I hate the Winklevii more."

"Then why do you keep working for them?" asks Eduardo, still frowning.

Mark shrugs. "It's complicated," he says. He pauses, then adds: "They own this bar, you know. It's some kind of rich boy passion project of theirs. That's them all over the walls." He gestures toward the back of the bar.

Eduardo squints at the wall, and sure enough, it's covered with framed photos of a couple of blond guys— presumably the Winklevoss twins— holding various medals and posing with various important-looking men. "Weird," he says, and Mark shrugs in reply. 

Eduardo had never heard about the Winklevosses owning a bar by campus, just that they row crew and started HarvardConnection. But thanks to his father, Eduardo has seen the way the incredibly-wealthy operate, and the idea of two rich Harvard students opening some sort of vanity bar doesn't really surprise him.

He finishes his Manhattan. The tab is exorbitant, but he pays it, and tips Mark ten dollars for good measure.

Mark gapes at the money for few moments. "So you _are_ a rich douchebag," he says at last.

"No—" starts Eduardo, but then Mark rolls his eyes.

"I was _teasing_ ," he says.

"Oh. Right." Eduardo can feel himself blush, but luckily Mark isn't paying attention; he's gone back to coding. Eduardo stands up and dusts off his hands on his coat. "I— I'm here for the summer," he offers, before he leaves. "I'm taking a couple classes."

"Mm," says Mark.

"So maybe I'll see you around."

"Maybe," says Mark. And he doesn't look up, but Eduardo thinks he's smiling.

Eduardo smiles too, and slips out into the sunlight.


End file.
